


No Repeats or Hesitations

by AppalachianApologies



Series: Appalachian's 2020 Whumptober [28]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Car Accidents, David Rossi Whump, Hurt David Rossi, Hurt Spencer Reid, Panic, Panic Attacks, Spencer Reid Whump, Whump, Whumptober 2020, aka appalachian's whumptober where i hurt spencer, and oh boy is spencer hurt during this, but we also got another whumpee during this one, i want you all to know that ao3 wants that tag to be car sex not car accidents sdfkjdsljkldsf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27246976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppalachianApologies/pseuds/AppalachianApologies
Summary: Spencer can't catch a break, even when he's just chatting in a car.Day 28: Accidents
Series: Appalachian's 2020 Whumptober [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948174
Comments: 36
Kudos: 187
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	No Repeats or Hesitations

**Author's Note:**

> I assume this counts for "accidents"?? I mean, it works, so. y a y. Also I really lowkey hate how this one turned out, but what happened happened so that's just how it's gonna be. In my original notes it was Spencer, Hotch, and Blake in the car, but that changed to Blake and Spencer, and then now it's Rossi and Spencer. wack.
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy!! :D

Rossi gave Spencer a look that was too quick for Spencer to interpret. “So you never learned the middle name?”

Shrugging even though his eyes are on the road, Spencer replies, “It actually never came up in the initial investigation, and by the time we actually needed the initials, the unsub had already devolved enough to make a mistake.”

With a chuckle, Rossi notes, “That ended up in your favor, huh?”

“Yeah,” Spencer agrees, “It was weird. That entire investigation just felt like we were-”

In a fraction of a second, Spencer’s world gets tossed around like he’s one of the little plastic people in Garcia’s numerous snowglobes. The seatbelt assault’s Spencer’s chest as it keeps his body from flying out the window. 

Two seconds later, the world is suspiciously still. 

It takes Spencer a few moments to realize that he’s leaning limply against the seatbelt, airbag obscuring half of his vision. His heart is beating fast, and Spencer can’t even tell if he’s hurt. All he feels is hot adrenaline running through his veins.

Slowly opening his mouth, Spencer slurs, “Rossi?” He frowns when the older man doesn’t answer. “Rossi?” When there’s still not a response, Spencer tries to look to the side, but stops himself when he feels something pinch.

Mutely he thinks that’s probably not an ideal thing.

“Rossi?” He tries again, anxiety rising. When he hears a groan from the other man, it motivates Spencer. “Rossi!”

“Kid?”

Swallowing, Spencer questions, “‘Re you okay?”

After muttering something under his breath, Rossi replies, “Dandy. And you?”

“I- I think I’m okay,” Spencer answers, helpfully avoiding saying anything about the fact that his spine is pinching every time he moves.

“Can you reach your phone?”

“No,” Spencer replies with a frown. “Are you able to?”

Through a wince, Rossi answers, “Think so. Just hang in there, kid,” Rossi replies, which makes Spencer a bit suspicious.

He’s not too hurt, right?

Unfortunately at that moment, a nice drizzle of blood makes itself known down the right side of Spencer’s temple, nearly getting in his eye. Before he can think better of it, Spencer tries to rub it off. “Gu-ah!” New plan: don’t move.

“Kid?” Rossi questions, stopping his attempt to dig out his cell. “What happened?”

Giving a harsh breath out, Spencer replies, “‘M okay,”

“Yeah, you sound like,” Rossi mumbles before cursing in a few different languages. “Just stay still, I’m going to call for help.”

Spencer makes a noise of understanding, before closing his eyes, attempting to catalogue his injuries. It’s strange- nothing quite hurts, but it doesn’t feel normal either. His legs have a feeling of almost pins and needles, but it seems softer than that. Like dull pins and needles, perhaps.

“Kid!”

Shooting his eyes open, Spencer questions, “Hm?”

Frowning, Rossi replies, “I was calling your name for a minute. What’s going on?”

“Oh,” Spencer lamely replies. “I guess I didn’t hear.”

“Bullshit,” Rossi muses. “Where are you hurting?”

Furrowing his brow, the younger agent replies, “That’s the thing, I’m not really in any pain.”

“Even your head? You’re bleeding,” Rossi points out.

If Spencer could, he’d shrug. “Just feels like a headache,”

Rossi groans, half from pain, and half from exasperation. “You didn’t think to mention that?”

“Mention what?”

“Oh mio dio,” Rossi grumbles, “Kid, listen to me. What hurts?”

“I guess my head?”

“You guess?” Rossi wants to scream, he’s not getting anywhere in this conversation. If anything it’s making his fears worse.

Frowning, Spencer tries to elaborate, “I’m not sure. It doesn’t so much hurt as just, I’m not sure,” Spencer trails off, before picking back up a few seconds later, “Feel right.”

“Concussion?”

“Probably.” Spencer concedes. “What about you? Are you hurt?”

With a sigh, Rossi admits, “Feels like my shoulder’s been ripped off. Otherwise I’m just dandy.”

“Mm.”

“You sure you’re doing okay there, kid?”

“Mmhm.”

“So  _ okay  _ that you’re not answering in full sentences and giving me the history of car crashes?” Rossi questions, absolutely not convinced.

Cracking a smile, Spencer confirms, “Yep. Do you think I’m gonna get more Jell-O?”

With a sigh, the older man answers, “Probably.”

Spencer’s smile falls when he thinks about the fact that Morgan isn’t going to be there to eat his Jell-O. It’s only been a month since he left, but it still feels so wrong walking into the bullpen every day and not seeing him. At least they get daily pictures of Hank, courtesy of Garcia. 

“You’ve gotta stop spacing out,”

“Hm?”

Letting his head fall limply against the seat, Rossi replies, “You probably have a concussion. ‘Keep spacing out on me.”

“Sorry,” Spencer murmurs, before cracking open an eye. “Mm- hear that? Sirens.”

Ignoring the fiery pain of his shoulder, Rossi agrees, “Yep. You’re gonna be just fine, kid.”

“Wee-woo, wee-woo,” Spencer agrees.

“You definitely have a concussion.” Rossi mumbles, before wincing at the bright light of the ambulances, a stark contrast to the cloudless night.

There’s a small flurry of movement, before, “Sir, can you hear me?”

Groaning, Rossi replies, “Just fine. Get us out of here?”

“That’s our goal, sir. Can you tell me your name?”

“David Rossi,”

The paramedic’s eyes blink, before lighting up in surprise. Mutely, Rossi wishes that she didn’t recognize him. It’s always a bit awkward, especially in situations like this, where he can’t use that to his advantage.

“Is the passenger conscious?” She asks, waving over a few firefighters with metal cutters.

Making a face, Rossi turns toward Spencer and hisses, “Kid. C’mon, stop spacing out,”

“Hm?”

“Yeah, there he is.”

“Can you tell me your name?”

Without opening his eyes, Spencer replies, “Spencer Reid.”

“Alright, we’re going to get you both out of here in no time.”

After cutting through the SUV door, it’s fairly easy to get Rossi out. The harder part for the paramedics was getting Rossi to lie down on a stretcher for more than a few seconds. It took far too long for him to concede.

“Okay, Spencer, we’re going to get you out next,”

Quietly, Spencer replies, “Yay,” Obviously not fully there mentally. He does however open his eyes when he hears Rossi.

“I’m not leaving without the kid,” He argues loudly from inside the ambulance.

“Sir-”

“I’m not going anywhere without the kid.” Rossi states, using his Italian death glare at anyone who dares to argue.

He loses that train of thought when one of the paramedics announces, “We’re gonna need a C-collar, Savi,”

“Got it,” Comes the reply. There’s a few back and forth, and Rossi tries to follow it, but it’s far too difficult when he has another paramedic attempting to keep him down on the stretcher, doing their best to convince him to stay down.

From inside the car, Spencer watches in his peripheral vision as metal is being cut away from the passenger door. From his view, it’s somehow sped up and in slow motion at the same time. Definitely a concussion, Spencer muses.

Once the door has finally been removed, one of the paramedics explains, “Alright, we’re going to put something around your neck, and it might feel a little strange, okay?”

Frowning, Spencer replies, “Don’t like things around my neck,”

“Sorry Spencer, we don’t have much of a choice.”

“I know,” Spencer grumbles, still wincing when the plastic feels like a noose. 

Turning to one of her coworkers, the paramedics asks, “Alright, let’s try and get the seat out of the way? Try and get the backboard from there?”

“Where’s Rossi?” Spencer questions, trying to look at the paramedic until she gently places a hand to keep his head straight.

“Your friend is going to be fine, he’s in another ambulance and he’s heading to the hospital, okay?” Spencer makes a noise of confirmation, but doesn’t otherwise say anything. Turning away from Spencer, the paramedic announces, “Turn him on his side on one, two, and three,”

Spencer stays limp as they turn his body, watching the world around him spin, until he feels something in his back, causing him to involuntarily jerk.

“Ngh-” He chokes out, right as the paramedics have set him down on the backboard.

“Spencer? Can you look at me?”

Blinking open his eyes, he’s greeted with the concerned face of one of the paramedics.

“Can you tell me what hurts?”

Confused at the fact that he’s suddenly inside of an ambulance, Spencer replies, “I don’t know. I feel weird,” Before letting his eyes close once more. At some point he feels hands over his body and arms, but he doesn’t have enough energy to move his limbs out of the way. There are fingers ghosting along his hairline, and something wet touches his temple, resulting in a grimace.

“Keep his arm- yep- thanks,”

Spencer opens his eyes, wondering how much time has passed. There’s an IV in his hand, and Spencer’s heart rate quickly picks up.

“I don’ take narcotics,”

“There aren’t any narcotics in there, okay Spencer?”

“Mmhm,” He confirms, absentmindedly watching the world fizz in and out of focus. There’s three people around him, all looking down, and it’s a bit unnerving. One of them busies himself with cleaning the blood off of his head, but the other two are looking at something that Spencer can’t decipher.

Suddenly, the woman asks, “Are you in any pain right now?”

“Headache?” He tries, although he isn’t quite sure. A headache seems like a good enough guess though. Spencer’s always having a headache, even outside of rather dramatic car accidents.

She nods, before ripping open a bit of plastic to reveal a blanket. Through the bumps in the road, the paramedic places the blanket over the lower half of Spencer’s body. 

He frowns when it doesn’t help his warmth. Not that it makes him colder, but it just doesn’t seem to be helping anything. The paramedic tucks it under his side, and Spencer’s breath catches in his throat.

Noticing his suddenly pale demeanor, one of the paramedics questions, “Spencer?”

The agent doesn’t hear it though. Instead all he can focus on is the lower half of his body. The fact that he can’t feel it.

He can’t feel his legs.

He can’t feel his legs.

_ He can’t feel his legs. _

“Spencer, can you look at me? I need you to- hold him down-”

Gasping out air like a fish on land, Spencer chokes, “I- I- I can’t-”

“Okay, Spencer, I need you to take a breath, got it? We’re going to take some deep breaths together. Ready?” She starts counting in and out, but Spencer can barely hear her through the thoughts jumbled in his mind.

No matter how hard Spencer tries, he can’t move his legs or feet, and he’s openly panicking about it now. 

The voices of the paramedics swim around him, all calmly talking to each other, a stark contrast of Spencer’s own internal thoughts. Hands hold him down, pushing on his arms as he tries to prop himself up on his elbows, but Spencer barely notices it.

They continue to talk, but for all Spencer knows it could be an alien language, because he can’t decipher any of it.

Eventually, something in him begins to calm his body down, and his mind soon follows. The calm turns into sleepiness which turns into exhaustion, and then Spencer knows no more.

*

Spencer wakes absolutely horrified.

He doesn’t think that he could’ve picked a worse time to wake up, opening his eyes to see nothing but gray around him. Instantly, Spencer tries to move, but the curved walls completely incase him, making his escape a failure.

Luckily someone seems to have been paying attention, because he’s pulled out. The obnoxious part of his brain helpfully supplies, MRI, but Spencer doesn’t care much for that information at the moment.

Someone with a quiet voice greets him, “Hi, Spencer. You’re in a hospital right now, and you’re safe, okay? Can you tell me if you’re in any pain?”

Spencer wishes that he knew the answer to that question. It appears that every single brain cell of his is being occupied with having a panic attack, and if he’s hurt, Spencer can’t tell.

The voice floats back, “Let’s take some deep breaths,” But Spencer doesn’t want to waste his brain power paying attention.

More voices talk, and more voices float, but none of it makes sense to him.

All Spencer knows is that he still can’t feel his legs.

He can’t move his legs, and he can’t feel them, and he can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

Hands keep touching him even though he wants them off, and hell, maybe more hands are touching him on his legs which he wouldn’t even be able to tell if that were the case because he  _ can’t feel his legs. _

And oh God he can’t feel his legs. He can’t move his legs, and he can’t feel his legs, and everything is going downhill and nothing makes sense and he still _ can’t feel his legs. _

A familiar touch finds his own hands, and Spencer wants to cry, because at least he can still feel things with his hand, and it feels amazing being able to feel and so he does cry because he can feel with his hands but he still can’t feel his legs.

And he can’t feel his legs.

He can’t feel his legs.

Something is wrong, something is so wrong because Spencer Reid, PhD cannot feel his legs and he should be able to feel his legs because that’s now nerves work and if he can’t feel his legs that means that something is wrong with his nerves which is unfortunate because, because, because, because.

He can’t feel his legs.

“Spence.”

And now everything is still.

“Spence.”

He knows that voice. It’s JJ, but JJ doesn’t understand. JJ doesn’t understand that he can’t feel his legs and he can’t move his legs and nothing will ever be the same because he can’t move his legs and he’ll never be able to feel his legs again and-

“Spence.”

And nothing. And JJ’s here.

JJ’s here, so “Spence.” Is what he hears, and finally, _ finally,  _ something cuts through the fog and it’s JJ. Because JJ’s here, even though he can’t feel his legs, oh God he can’t feel his legs, but it’s okay because JJ is here and JJ’s going to make sure that nothing’s going to happen to him.

“J-?” Spencer swallows, wanting to tell her what’s happening, while at the same time wanting to beg her to tell him what’s happening because he doesn’t know, Spencer doesn’t know, he doesn’t know what’s happening, all he knows is that he can’t feel his legs.

_ He can’t feel his legs. _

“Spence, look at me,”

His body moves before his brain even hears the words, and he sees JJ’s confident face, and Spencer knows that he’s going to be safe because nothing bad ever happens with JJ. In fact, it’s the opposite: everything good happens with JJ.

“I need you to try and breathe with me, got it?”

Spencer understands, he truly, completely, one hundred percent understands, but at the same time he doesn’t understand at all because all he can really understand is that he can’t feel his legs and oh god he can’t feel his legs and everything is going downhill and he can’t move his legs and he can’t feel his legs and-

And.

And then.

And then nothing.

*

The next time Spencer wakes, it’s with much less fanfare. He’s in a bed, surprisingly comfortable for being in the hospital, and there’s an old TV pinned to the corner of his room which is playing Days Of Our Lives reruns.

“Hey, look who’s with us,”

Blinking, Spencer looks up to find JJ smiling down at him. “How’re you doing, Spence?”

“My legs-”

“You’re going to be okay, yeah?”

Shaking his head, Spencer tries to explain, “No, I- I can feel them, JJ I can feel them!”

Nodding encouragingly, JJ muses, “Yeah, see? It was just a bit of swelling. You’re okay now. Just a little banged up.”

“I can feel them,” Spencer reiterates, because it’s the best thing he’s ever felt in his life. He doesn’t care about the pins and needles which surely must be raked up and down his legs, because he can actually feel it.

“Yeah see? You’re okay.”

Tears bubbling up in his eyes before he can stop it, Spencer admits, “I though- JJ I really thought-” 

“It’s okay though,” She cuts him off, not particularly wanting to know what he thought. She has tears of her own shining in her eyes, and Spencer figures that it’s probably from relief, much like his own.

Swallowing, he questions, “Rossi?”

“Rossi’s okay,” JJ quickly supplies. “Hotch came in to see him, and he’s doing okay. He dislocated his shoulder and has a few bruised ribs, but otherwise he’s fine.”

“He’s fine?”

“He’s fine.” JJ confirms with a smile, albeit tight. “Are you in pain?”

In lieu of an answer, Spencer replies, “I can feel my legs,”

“Are they hurting?”

Spencer shakes his head. “No, but I can feel them.”

Nodding, JJ continues, “What about your head? Is that hurting?”

“I don’t think so,” Comes the reply, causing JJ to frown. It’s one of those questions where with an ordinary person, they’d reply with either ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ Then again, Spencer has never been an ordinary person.

Squeezing his hand, JJ confirms, “Okay. You can get some rest, got it?”

Spencer absentmindedly nods. “Got it,” But his eyes still don’t close.

“Are you okay, Spence?”

He opens and closes his mouth a few times before admitting, “I don’t want to sleep,”

“Nightmares?”

“I don’t want to wake up and not be able to feel my legs,” Spencer replies before he can stop himself. As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets it, and looks down at the bed.

JJ scoots a little closer on her chair, before grabbing Spencer’s hand with both of her own. “You don’t need to be afraid, Spence. I promise you’re going to be okay.”

Breathlessly, Spencer replies, “You can’t know that.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you. Your legs are going to be fine.”

“But what if-”

“I’ll stay right by your side. Nothing is going to happen if you fall asleep.” JJ confirms, in a voice that could make the director himself fall to his knees.

Spencer still isn’t convinced, but he doesn’t add anything more about it. Swallowing, he questions, “And Rossi’s okay?”

With a smile, JJ reiterates, “He’s doing okay, just resting. He’s only a few doors down, and I saw him myself. I promise he’s fine.”

“Rossi’s okay.” Spencer confirms to himself with a shallow nod.

“And you’re okay too,” JJ adds with a squeeze. “You’re both okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have exciting news for you all!! Day 22 (drugged) is going to be resolved in tomorrow's fic! Very exciting times we're living in haha.
> 
> As always, you can talk with me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/appalachianapologies) (AppalachianApologies) if you'd like! I'm always so down to meet new people :D
> 
> I love you all very much, and I hope you all are doing okay. If you find yourself in a bad or scary situation, here are some hotlines (Please keep in mind that the written out numbers are US hotlines)
> 
> National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255  
> National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673  
> National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233
> 
> If you don't live in America and need someone to talk to, here's a list of [international hotlines.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines)  
> You are not alone, and I love you all <3
> 
> Much love to all of you, and take care until tomorrow!! <3


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